


Shared Memories

by WichitaRed



Category: Alias Smith and Jones
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-10
Updated: 2014-01-10
Packaged: 2018-01-08 05:56:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,218
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1129127
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WichitaRed/pseuds/WichitaRed
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It takes the smallest detail to trigger a memory...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Shared Memories

**Author's Note:**

> **Outlaw Days

Shared Memories – This was a story challenge the word was kerfuffle 

Hannibal Heyes’ palms were planted on the table as leaned on it, his dark eyes creased, his mouth softly mumbling what he was reading or thinking sometimes; it was hard to tell which. The tabletop was covered in enough documents stamped Mid-West Railroad for him to write a biography on the company but the plans he was concocting were much more devious. With a hard snort, he straightened, shoving a hand back through his long hair and shooting a harder look at the cabin’s front door.

Setting the gun barrel down, he had been skillfully filing in order to improve its balance, the Kid swung his feet to the floor, from where he had been stretched out across two chairs, fully relaxed. Standing he yawned, before drawling, “I’m on it.”

His boot heels clumped, hollowly across the wood floor, the sound only pausing long enough for him to lift the water bucket from its hook. Stepping through the door, the Kid paused, tugging his hat low against the brightness of the afternoon sun. Pausing to allow his eyes to adjust, he saw exactly what he expected to find.

Bunched up on the bare-dirt, before his and Heyes’ cabin were most of the Devil’s Hole Gang, with their attention so wrapped up in bickering and shoving one another about. They still had not noticed the Kid standing above them. His nostrils flared, as he listened to their commotion rising in volume as their bickering progressed into out and out arguing over which one of them should go interrupt their leader. From what he was hearing, it seemed they were bored, antsy or both and apparently one of them had come up with the great idea of seeing if Heyes was planning to go over the next train robbery with them today and if not, was it all right for them to break into the whiskey stores.

Shaking his head, Kid stepped forward, his face hardening in rising anger, ‘Don’t them fools know their fussing and blustering is already interrupting him? Hell, the look Heyes threw at them, they all don’t know how lucky they are. He ain’t wearing his holster.’ Reaching the steps, still unnoticed, he flung the bucket wide, hollering while raining water down on the lot of them, “Heyes can’t think with all the racket you’re making. Move your kerfuffling away from here this instant!”

Back inside the cabin, Heyes had set to pacing. ‘Damnation, I was on the edge of a breakthrough.’ His black eyes took in the Kid moving across the porch and, turning, he spied his own gun lying in pieces, where the Kid had been altering it. ‘Probably just as well,’ He thought. ‘Cause I wouldn’t mind shooting one of them about now.” An evil grin, a touch too easily roused, spread across his face, ‘and, I think, I would have started with Wheat.’ He thought; pivoting, changing the direction of his pacing in time to see the water sparkling in the air as it flew out over the heads of the unprepared outlaws. His smile turned to one of glee and as he walked toward the door to better see their reactions, the Kid’s words floated in, side-swiping him. All strength slipped from his legs and with a grunt, he plopped into a chair, images from the past welling up before him. 

He and the Kid, dripping wet and he trying to sweet-talk his Ma, who was standing above them on their front porch. Clear as day, he could hear her hollering in an Irish brogue almost as thick as his Uncles, “You two cease kerfuffling this instant!” And, with a snort, she had flung the empty bucket at their feet. “Hannibal, I did not ask for no explanations from you. If I had cared enough to hear, the what-fors and whys, then I would not have doused the pair of you. What I do I know is, I will not have any further quarrelling and tussling within my hearing. You two sound like bickering Brits on my doorstep. Now you”, she had pointed at Jed, go check the coop for eggs.” Her face softened, “You, my bairn, break off being such a rebel-rouser and refill my bucket, the one from the kitchen too.” She said this with a shake of her head and seeing the corner of her son’s mouth quirk, pointed at the well, “Not a word Hannibal, not a word, you hear me.” 

Walking back inside, the Kid found his cousin splayed out in a chair, his dark eyes staring aimlessly off into time. “Heyes?” He said. Getting no answer, he stepped closer asking, “You hear me?” 

His question coincided with his Aunt’s in the memory, and, hearing them both at the same time, Hannibal Heyes jerked violently, “Huh? What!?” 

“What is right?” Curry said, squatting beside his cousin. He thought, ‘I think he has been working too hard. When did he sleep last?’

“Nothing.” Heyes shook his head, pushing his long bangs back from his face. “You actually threw water on them?”

“Yeah, seemed easier then gunplay. I get tired of threatening them with my Colt,” Kid said, still eyeing his befuddled looking partner. “I think you ought to take a break.”

“I think you’re right. ...” Heyes let his eyes scroll to the table, and, rubbing his face, he looked back into Curry’s concerned eyes, “Kerfuffle. Hmm, I ain’t heard that in over twenty years.”

A slow smile crept across the Kid’s face, “Seeing that water bucket by the front door, I picked it up natural as day and next thing I knew her words came to me and—“

“You were out there hollering at them, the same way Ma used to at us.” Heyes shook his head. “I sometimes forget how quick her Irish temper could flare.” Raising glassy eyes to his cousin, they exchanged a look, which covered twenty years worth of pain and loss. Standing, Heyes patted the Kid on the shoulder, “Jed, think I will take a nap.”

Nodding, the Kid remained squatted but spun on his toes to follow his cousin’s movement across the room, “Heyes, I apologize--”

“No. Don’t Kid, don’t.” Heyes said, turning to lean in the doorframe of his room, “It is our past and we share it.” He smiled sadly, “The good and painful memories it carries in it. I do appreciate you breaking up all the kerfuffling out front.” He turned but before shutting his door, “I also appreciate the memory you stirred up. I ain’t seen Ma that clearly in too long.” He said, softly shutting the door.

Curry nodded, sliding to a stand a huge smile taking over his face because he too could clearly see the wicked grin his Aunt had been wearing that day she had doused the two of them. “No, not a bad memory,’ he thought. Looking out the front door, he spotted the empty bucket lying on the porch and stepping out he snagged it up, trotting down the steps, he glanced over at the bunkhouse. “But I bet they feel as disgruntled as Han and I did the day she stood laughing at us.” Smiling he glanced back at the cabin and then walked on out to the well.


End file.
